Beat the Turtle Drum Read Online Free Page B

Jean-Pierre,” Joss said sternly.
    One night we talked our mother into letting us spend the night out in our tent in the back yard. We carried all our stuff down, our sleeping bags, a can of insect repellent, some eggs and bacon for breakfast, and a lantern.
    â€œI’ll leave the back door open, just in case,” Mom said. We knew she’d probably sit up all night to see nothing happened to us.
    â€œIn case what?” Joss wanted to know.
    â€œIn case it rains or thunders or you decide to come in.”
    â€œOh, we won’t get scared,” Joss said. “Jean-Pierre will take care of us. There’s nothing he’s afraid of, is there, Jean-Pierre?”
    Joss nodded and smiled at him. “He says, ‘Never fear’—he’s spent the night out plenty of times. Sometimes it’s scary if an owl starts hooting. Or if a raccoon sticks his head inside the tent. Or if a skunk comes around. But Jean-Pierre will take care of us. What’s that?”
    Joss bent down to listen to what Jean-Pierre had to say. He was able to change his size at will. Sometimes he was bigger than Joss, bigger than me, sometimes he was a tiny baby. It was a very handy trick.
    â€œJean-Pierre says it might be a good idea to leave the back door open, Mom,” Joss said. “He said he might have to come inside to go to the bathroom. You know how he is.”
    I don’t remember exactly when Jean-Pierre disappeared. I think it was when Joss was about eight. One day he was there, the next he was gone. It was as simple as that. When I asked her where he was, she said he’d gone to visit his family and he might never come back.
    â€œYou have to understand Jean-Pierre the way I do,” she said. “He’s a real friend. He’s there when you need him, he’ll do anything in the world for me, but he doesn’t want to hang around. He has other things to do. It’s very simple, Kate.”
    Once in a great while, like then, I remember feeling that Joss was older than I, much older.
    As I said, last night Joss had another dream. She shouted, “Jean-Pierre! Jean-Pierre!” over and over. I listened for a few minutes to see if she’d say something interesting, but she didn’t.
    I shook her finally, gently.
    â€œHey,” I said, “stop hollering.”
    She sat up, rubbing her eyes.
    â€œYou should’ve let me sleep,” she said. “Why do you always wake me up?”
    â€œBecause you shout so loud when you’re dreaming that I can’t sleep,” I said.
    â€œIt was so real, Kate,” she said. “I dreamed Jean-Pierre and I were riding horses alongside a river, and he fell off into the water. I went to rescue him. He had on a bright red shirt, and then I couldn’t see him at all. It was so real.” She shuddered.
    â€œDo you want some cocoa?” I asked her. Sometimes if you drink something hot when you wake up from a bad dream, it helps. Then I remembered an old superstition a girl in my class had told me about. She said if you put your shoes under the bed with the soles up, it’ll stop nightmares. I’d been waiting for some time to try this out to see if it worked.
    I got out of bed and put Joss’s shoes with the soles up under her bed.
    â€œNow you’re all set,” I said. I told her about the old superstition.
    â€œGood.” Joss settled back under the covers. “It was so real. I hope he’s all right. Jean-Pierre, I mean.”
    â€œHe’s fine,” I told her. “I know he’s fine. Don’t worry. Go to sleep.”
    And she did. Right away. That old superstition must really be true.
    It was so strange, both of us talking about an imaginary person as if he were real. Even after all that time Jean-Pierre was real. That was perhaps the strangest part of all.

“I figure Grandmother is good for twenty-five dollars,” Joss said. Her birthday was only four days away. She